Destiny's Play
by MoonliteMuse
Summary: "We can't get caught, Zuko!" Katara hissed, but her heart raced with excited adrenaline. "You know it's illegal." "Then let's keep this quiet," he brushed his lips over hers with a smirk, danger flickering in his eyes. "Are you afraid?"
1. The Beginning

**A/N:** Please, above all, enjoy. And PLEASE review! I cannot stress the importance of your thoughts enough. :) thank you.

_It is 2003. The years of the future. But, for this small town, everything is still stuck in the Victorian age. Ozai ordered that the town be kept in its original state, for the profit of tourism. On top of that, Ozai, to secure his position on the throne, banned bending. No discussing bending, no bending at all, or you will face_ the_ worst of consequences. People began obeying when entire towns burned out of nowhere, and people started to disappear. . .some can't remember what bending even is. . . _

"Thank you, Misseour," the young woman offered the vendor a gentle, warm smile. Her deep ocean eyes sparkled with kindness, and no such hypnotic eyes could have belonged to any other than the beautiful maiden known throughout the small town. Two chocolate locks curled around her angelic face in loops, the rest in a neat, tidy bun at the very top of her head. The sunlight caught the strands of her silky hair just right, illuminating with a golden glow.

The vendor graciously returned the smile. "You are most welcome, madmoiselle; you know that." His smile widened, for Katara always came to visit his stand on these Tuesday afternoons, and her visits were always joyous occassions, never unpleasant. "Have a good day now." Katara treated him with a small laugh, the corner of her eyes crinkling up.

"And to you as well." She bowed her head slightly in farewell, her pink lips still parted in light happiness, turning around and waving, and continuing her errand trip along the uneven cobblestone streets. Mindless pratter passed her, horse-drawn buggies rolling up and down the streets, the hooves clicking hard, heavy with weight against the stone. Katara smiled as she found herself listening to the familiar, soothing sounds of a quaint afternoon in France. Vendors wooed the upper class women, dazzling with mouth watering delacicies and sparkling jeweled necklaces. It seemed an art, in fact, the way their faces would twist with such enthusiastic expressions, and the way they swayed their arms to draw their prey in, surely it had to be a learned art. The women would gasp, picturing such finery lying on their pale skins. Vendors grinned in triumph and began the bidding starting at greedy prices, assuming the women were not truly educated in business. Katara shook her head sadly. Oh, if only they would understand how others would take advanatage of their ignorance! A long time back, when Katara had first begun her Tuesday errands, she had pleaded with the women in that they could haggle for much lower prices. They had snickered, though, turning up their noses at her and merely casted her off as a stupid peasant girl, which made the vein in her jaw tick in annoyance. Katara felt pity towards them. She turned her gaze upwards, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the clear, intense light. None criticized the sun, she thought. Though dangerous as raging fire could be, everyone else had seen it as a pure being. . .

What a lovely day, Katara changed her thoughts as she turned down a street, narrowly dodging a rather furious looking individual on a bicycle. She did a full twist, her skirt twirling around her, the loops passing in front of her eyes in a little boastful dance. The sun sat regally in the sky, overlooking his subjects that he regularly provided plentiful life for. Air was calm and warm, just enough for a gentle flush upon one's cheeks. Suddenly, a strong gust ripped through the town, lifting Katara's cream skirt in a violent, rippling dance. She shrieked as her hands flew down to catch the restless fabric, a dusting of frustration fluttering over her cheeks. The scent of saltwater drifted with the wind, and Katara's nose inhaled deeply and needingly, like a man parched for days discovering clean drinking water. Her alarmed muscles relaxed, sighing peacefully. "I haven't been to port in a while," she persuaded herself with a smirk. "Sokka can wait." Inspired by the wind, she changed her course, heading west to port. Gracefully without effort, she weaved her way through the relatively small crowds, entertaining herself with a puzzle of a maze. As she neared sea port, the number of bulky young men shrowding around her increased, carrying large crates of supplies such as rope and water and bread back to the ship. She shivered, feeling uneasy and dirty under lingering, watchful eyes. Katara shrugged it off and increased her pace to arrive at the port, a smile lighting her face, her breath stolen by the powerful sea wind. Her heart thundered under her breast, a constant reminder of her longin for the sea. Whenever she was around water, she found, it seemed to draw her near, like a mother softly calling her child's name. It was where she belonged, as if she should have been born with fins, not feet

Her heart squeezed at the thought. "Mother. . ."she whispered softly to herself, deep blue orbs stinging not because of the air. Unconsciously her hand rose to gently rest at the heart of her throat, her fingertips stroking the cool surface of the stone.

"Indeed, such a sight should move anyone to tears," a voice affirmed behind her, startling out of her thoughts and causing her to spin around quickly.

Standing tall and proud, a handsome young man, unruly brown hair caked with salt and grime. His skin was not too far off from her caramel-colored tone, more of a glowing tan caused by many laborous hours working under the scorching, unforgiving sun. The familiar stranger's eyes were a rich brown, and Katara found herself easily lost in such beauties. A piece of straw hung limp between his lips as he gave her a cocky smile. Her jaw dropped, her eyes widening as her brain scrambled for a name to match the face. "J. . .Jet?" she asked, afraid of the wrong accusation.

The boy frowned, searching her face, then gasped and reached out a calloused hand, stroking her hair loops. "Of course," he breathed, smiling. "there's only one girl in the world with hair loops like these." Jet's fingers lingered in her hair. He wrapped his arms around her abruptly, hugging her close to his chest that smelled of the sea. "It's been a while, Katara!" he laughed, his voice bright as his posture relaxed.

"Eight years, I think it's been," she smiled, embracing her old family friend, reluctant to pull away. "What brings you all the way out here?"

The words flowed smoothly from his lips, reciting a fairytale book memorized by heart. "Well, turns out that some of my relatives live in Paris, and they own a highly successful business. So, I thought I would just. . .drop by." He shrugged casually, as if it were the most obvious thing to do in his position.

Katara's smile faltered as she looked deep into his eyes, whispering, "You're looking for a home, aren't you?" her voice cushioned with understanding.

Jet kept his cool, calm demeanor, chuckling and running a hand through his hair. "Yeah. . .believe so." He looked at her, smiling gently. "I've been alone for a long time, Katara, ever since my parents were slaughtered." His voice wavered a little, becoming lighter, but the sweet charm never left. Jet effortlessly and quickly changed the subject. "How are you and Sokka doing?"

Katara opened her mouth to respond, but paused and clamped up, and she tried again. "I can hardly believe that this," she waved a hand around them, "is hardly the place to catch up on the past. We have a store, and it's closed for the day; perhaps we can go there, instead?"

Jet nodded, the corner of his mouth tugging into a smile. "Sure."

Katara returned the nod, motioning with her head to follow her. Her body moved fluidly in and out of the crowd, and Jet seemed to have no problem distinguishing her from the rest in order to follow her lead. All chatter was withheld until they reached the shop in a matter of minutes. Katara extended a dainty hand, smooth like a woman's, and turned the undistinguished metal doorknob, pushing forward. A ding of a bell announced her arrival, and a head behind the bloodied counter perked up. Blue eyes met blue eyes, and Sokka grinned and rose from his seat, making no rush to take his baby sister into his arms. "There you are, Katara! What took you so. . ." he trailed off, his eyes narrowing menacingly at the young man that accompanied Katara. "Who's your little _friend_?" Sokka all but hissed through clenched teeth.

"Come off it, Sokka!" she snapped, slapping him on the arm. "This is Jet- do you remember him?"

After a pause, Sokka drew up his memories with success, but his glare never lessened, not even a bit. "Even worse," he muttered.

Katara opened her mouth to sharply remind her brother of a theory called manners, but Jet spoke before she. "It's good to see you, too, Sokka." He smiled, clapping him heartily on the shoulder on the shoulder, then turned his attention to Katara. "Is there a place we might be able to sit and discuss in here?"

"Yes, yes, of course." Ignoring her brother's looks, she led their guest up the wooden, creaky steps to the upstairs level. A small attic, was all it was. Two beds, one on either side, and a window that could let the light filter through. The rest, was completely barren. Not even spiders kept this room cozy. She offered a small smile. "I'm sorry, it's not much-"

"Stop, Katara. It's fine." He sat on her bed when she offered. He paused, and smiled to her. "So, tell me. How'd YOU get here?"

Her eyes, so bright and full of life, lost all playfullness, but the brightness never left. "It's been tough, but we've made it so far. We ran away from Tipulten, and we came here to France a couple of years ago. For a while, we barely kept food on the table by doing a variety of chores and manual labor around the town for little to no pay, but eventually we earned enough to open up a shop just underneath our home. I run the bakery, and Sokka runs the butchery. Even now, we don't make much more profit than we did before, but it's worth it."

Jet tilted his hand, eyebrows crinkling. "Why is that?"

"Well, we don't try to make a profit. We understand that money is hard to come by nowadays, because we understand being poor, and unable to buy food. We want to try to help people as best as we can with the war going on." Jet admired how kind and sincere her eyes were, even if they seemed lost in their own world. She was proud of her and her brother. . .as she should be.

"That's great, Katara! That's. . .really impressive." There was a warmth in his eyes, like a campfire. Cozy, soft. . .pulling you in. . .

"GET OUT, JET!" The door swung open, slamming against the wall. Stood at the opening, a very pissed Sokka, shaking with fury. His eyes were wide, and his arm struck out, his index finger pointing to the doorway. "NOW!"

"SOKKA! He isn't DOING anything!"

"Yeah, not NOW. But I'm not letting him touch you, Katara." He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're my baby sister, and I have to protect you-"

"HONESTLY, Sokka? I'm sixteen, I think-"

"-That I should go." Jet finished, patting her hand. "It's alright. I'll see you around sometime, okay?" He stood with a smile.

Katara frowned. "Jet, please excuse h-"

"Let him BE, Katara." Sokka said darkly, watching Jet like a dog as he left the attic, downstairs, and out of their shop.

She turned to him sharply. "Why do you HAVE to be such an ASS?"

He sighed. "It's my job, Katara." His voice gentle, he sat by here, and wrapped his arms tight, hugging her to his chest. "After our parents died. . .you're all I have left. I can't. . .I WON'T let anything bad happen to you."

After a few moments, she forgave him, hugging her brother back. "I love you too, Sokka." She pulled away and grinned, taking out a small, brown paper bag. "And I got you something."

With a raised eyebrow, he took the bag, opened it up, and gasped. "OH MY SPIRITS. OH. MY. SPIRITS!" He pulled out a small bottle of cactus juice. "I haven't had this in AGES!"

She laughed. "I knew it was your favorite. It was on sale."

"My precious. . ." He murmured, hugging the bottle now, cuddling it close to his cheek. He stroked it, as a mother would her kitten.

xXx

It was late at night, the moon hung high in the sky, casting all that it touched in an ethereal glow. The owl hooted, the crickets chirped. Long, dark lashes fluttered open, casting a quick glance over at her brother. He was fast asleep. . .and when he was asleep, not even a bugle could wake him up. Quietly, she pulled her sheets off, her soft feet brushing against the clean wood floor. It was something to do, keeping the house tidy. She hated it. . .being such a woman. She wanted to fight. Be out there, in the war, and protect their freedom.

And by Spirits, she WOULD.

Tiptoeing, extra carefully, she snuck out of the attic. Down to the shop, she pulled on her winter jacket, and snuck out the back way, so the bell wouldn't ring. She was in control of her destiny. And she was going to take it into her own hands.

xXx

She had been wandering for hours. Katara had no idea what to do, or where she was going to go. Running a hand through her loose curls, she sighed. Great. . .she didn't have a plan. Another rash decision. Turning her head up to the moon, the cool breeze caressed her hair. "What can I do, Mom?" she whispered. How she wished they were both here. . .they'd know what to do.

A deep bellow thundered from above. Sheets of tiny water droplets poured down, drenching her with cold liquid. Katara closed her eyes, her frustration boiling inside. The rain felt so good. . .but now her clothes were ruined. Her eyes flinging open, she stomped her foot down, hard, into a puddle. The water not only splashed, it exploded, like gunpowder. With a shriek she stumbled back, tripping on a piece of wood left behind in the street, and hit her head hard on a brick wall before she blacked out.

The last thing she could remember was a pair of unfamiliar, strong arms wrapping around her, and lifting her up into a chest that smelled of burning wood.

**A/N:** I think I shall end the first chapter here. I'm watching Legend of Korra and LOVING it. I found this on my iPod, though, and decided to give it a try before I write Korra fanfics. (Makorra- ZUTARA NEVER DIES!) I'm writing the second chapter RIGHT now, don't fret. . .And I'll get to my other stories, as soon as summer starts. . .

**A/N**: No, Tibulten is not a real place. It's made up. Play along XD


	2. Finding My Own Way

**A/N:** Thank you for those that are reading! I hope to make this my biggest success story yet. Reviews are needed/appreciated. :)

Soft, and warm. . . and fuzzy. . .mmm, like the best tiger fur she could ever imagine, brushing against her silky skin, offering the utmost protection all around. Katara snuggled into the fur, her fingers curling tight around it and pulling it close to her chest as possible. It was strangely like home, the way it smelled. It settled her heart, as if sinking into her chest in deep meditation. She buried her cheek into the blanket, nuzzling close.

Wait.

Katara's eyes slowly opened, with a small cry from her lips in protest of waking up. Eyebrows furrowed, she stretched, and found her body oddly dry, which, is especially strange. She distinctly remembered being cold and wet, just a few minutes ago. A dainty hand ran down her stomach, then her side to find a silk, baby blue nightgown.

What?

_Silk_?

As soon as the fog lifted from her vision- which she now found limited- she could see that she really was wrapped in a tiger fur, orange and black dagger-like stripes starkly contrasting. . .not that she was complaining, it felt _ah-_mazing, like nothing she had ever felt before. But she wasn't going to take charity work. Ever. Intent on finding whoever it was that was keeping her, she sat up quickly, earning herself a head-spin. Her eyes rolled, and she gingerly propped her head up with a hand. Her fingertips brushed what she knew to be white bandage. But. . .why was her head bandaged? Did she get into a fight or something? As she shifted, the fur blanket did as well, wafting a comforting scent to her in a whole new wave. It wrapped around her like the fur, promising her warmth and security. . .but, this scent wasn't of water, or spring, or vanilla, but rather, a slightly woodsy smell, with scorching fire. It was an amazing combination, like going camping in the woods. The mere thought relaxed her heartbeat to a slow, steady pace. The camping life was how her family had once lived, when their parents were still around. They'd sit around a fire, laughing, talking, making do of what they had caught for the day. Her father would share the most intriguing stories, when he used to be in the army, or mystical tales of faraway lands, full of adventure and wonder. Her mother would tell of how their parents met, or baby stories (Sokka did NOT like this part at all), but Katara loved listening to them all. When she closed her eyes, she could still hear them, how excited they would be, how they would pull you in, turning myth into reality. A smile flitted to her lips, resting softly like a bumblebee on top a flower. Perhaps, that is where her sense of thrill comes from. She always wanted to go off on her own story, to tell something to her kids, that would tell _their_ kids, and so on. And that's what she intended to do last night- she wanted to not live an ordinary life anymore, but actually make a difference.

She frowned a little, curling a fist to her heart. Sokka wouldn't understand. After all, he's perfectly happy with the life they have now. If only she could have convinced him to come with her. . .but she knew it was pointless. If she had told Sokka, he probably would have chained her down and have gotten people to supervise her. Constantly. All the time. As if she needed it. Pfft. She could take care of herself _just_ fine. She didn't need a _man's_ help. She was perfectly capable of handling everything on her own.

"Hello?" Katara called out, stepping out of the bed, which was way too comfy for ANYONE'S good. Her feet landed on polished, cool stone. Immediately, she could feel the history shooting up from the ground into her nerve endings. So many stories, but all of them unknown, unspoken. What fallen soldier's blood lay under her feet, or what untold king had walked across this very surface? She desired to know all the stories this. . .place had to offer. Where was she, though? Why was she here? How did she _get _here?

Who were those arms that completely melted her from the inside out, just a few moments ago?

The beautiful maiden could hardly see. . .it was pitch black, save for the soft candlelight that lit the room along the walls. Glorious, long candelabras rested all over this room. . .or, rather, the portion of the room she was in. The warm light flickered and danced in the golden sheen of metal, as if entertained by its own movements, that vain fire. Cautiously stepping forward, she felt for the ground she could not see, and found small steps. Tapping each step with the tips of her toes, she finally found her way down, and felt a long, smooth carpet. Deciding this was the best way to follow, she took note of exactly how everything looked, for what she could see, at least. It definitely did not feel like a peasant's home; it had to be someone of high stature, of high wealth. Who else could afford fur all the way from India, or (at least what felt like) the finest silk of China? Where was she-

"AHH!" She shrieked, when balls of orange fire spontaneously erupted out of the mouth of the darkness. It swirled, it danced, like a wild horse of fire that could not be reigned in. It was as beautiful as it was terrifying. She fell on her bum, her arms held up in front of her face.

_The smell of burning hair. _

_Her parents' screams, echoing fresh in her ears. _

_Charred flesh._

_And those eyes. . .those cold, malicious eyes, with a wicked grin to match. _

No. . .No, she told herself, shaking her head as it began to pulse. Those weren't her memories. They couldn't be. Her parents died. . .peacefully. She woke up one morning, and they had fallen asleep, eternally, wrapped in each other's arms. It wasn't that bad.

As she opened her eyes, the fire had stopped, and this time, there was no candlelight around her to help her. She was truly all alone. . .in the dark. . .

With a fire beast.

"Looking for someone?"

Fear prickled her skin. The voice was definitely a man's. Oh, sweet Spirits. . .what did he plan to do with her? "Yeah. I'm looking for you." She stood up, brushing off her. . .silk nightgown. "I just want to ask some questions."

"What if I don't _want_ to answer them?" Footsteps circled around her. Were they close? Were they far?

Katara frowned, and found her firm voice. "I'm going to _make _you answer me."

The playfulness left his voice. "I'd like to see you try, waterbender!"

xXx

Crap.

Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh CRAP.

She didn't know how to _fight_. She never learned in her life! But, she wasn't going to back down. Not here, not now. If this was how it was going to end, then she would die with honor. She put her hands up, very bravely, and narrowed her eyes. "Bring it!"

As soon as that challenge left her lips, all the lights puckered out. Nothing save her own breathing could be heard around her.

Footstep.

Bah-dum.

Footstep.

Bah-dum. Bah-dum. Bah-dum.

Her heart was pounding in her ears, her chest constricted, and her jaw clenched tight. Strength washed into her muscles, squeezing her hands into fists. Taking a defensive stance, she prepared for the worst.

A sputter before her, a tame, golden fire flickering in front of her eyes. And his face. Now she could see. . .

He was beautiful. His face was perfectly shaped like an egg, his jaw smooth, his eyes bright like the sun and just as every bit intense. The color of amber, they were slit, contrasting with his milky pale skin. So smooth, except for the mask covering his left side of his face. The deadly concentration in his expression was that of a dragon- amused, calculating, raw. Such a gaze made her heart flutter, made her thoughts stop abruptly. . .

Her hand struck out, reaching for his throat, but he caught her wrist effortlessly. Calmly, even. But the strangest thing, she noticed, is that in his other hand, a small flame flickered, hovering over his palm.

. . ._how_?

"You are not ready to fight," he whispered in his husky voice, more stating than anything. . .even with a bit of pride. "But I promise you a _real_ fight, when you are able to."

"I can fight you-" But before she finished, he let go of her wrist and stuffed his hands in his pockets, walking away. She frowned and stumbled after him, even a bit blindly. "HEY! I'm not finished with you!"

He stopped, turning only his head to look back at her, his eyes cold. "Who said I was finished with _you_, waterbender?"

"Stop calling me that! _And_, just tell me your name, at least!"

Before he turned around, she could have sworn he looked slightly amused, even a glisten in his eyes.

"Zuko."

**A/N**: Tell me what you think! Most of this is improved, so. . .I also know that the characters are a bit OOC, but they'll be more IC as the story goes along. My reasoning behind this is because it is an AU, and so their circumstances have made their personalities a bit different (hence a serious Sokka in the first chapter). Do not fret, they'll be more IC as they spend time with each other. You will see them shine as the characters we all know and love. :)


	3. Awakening

**A/N: **I don't own anything! Please review.

Her eyes widened, and she took a hesitant step back. "Z. . .Zuko?"

"Yes. Unlike you, I didn't stutter." His words, sharp and direct as knives, flowed without any care from his lips.

"You're a liar."

"NO." He growled, turning to her with deadly speed. "That, is my sister. I am _not_ a liar."

Katara's eyes held no trust. "You seriously don't mean to tell me-"

"Yes. I am Zuko. _Prince_ Zuko."

"From what I heard, you're not a prince-"

"Shut up! You don't think I _know_?" He hissed, the flame growing longer until it smacked her with razor sharp teeth across her cheek. She gasped and covered her face, cowering back as the searing pain overwhelmed her.

Zuko's eyes widened, not used to having his own fire touch anyone other than burning himself a couple of times as a boy. "I. . ."

"Stay away from me." She spat, covering her face and she left quickly in the other direction.

Zuko sighed, his head hanging and rubbing the bridge of his nose. All the lights glowed to life, illuminating the rest of the castle.

xXx

She ran off, her long, dark hair flowing behind her, to somewhere in what she now knew was an abandoned, and hidden, castle. No one had been able to find it after Zuko had left, even after his evil sister, Azula, ordered a manhunt, and now she knew why. The palace, like most of France, was decorated in gold and deep, blood red. Dark, gray stone passageways, with dark red drapings and countless paintings of the royal family everywhere. . .but, in each and every painting, Zuko was ripped out, as well as his father's face. Comforting benches sat in between each portrait, or underneath a cross of two long swords, or beside some untold, untouched artifact. Candlelight lit the hallway, as well as glowing, hanging crystal chandeliers, that sparkled off the walls in a glittering away of beauty. The ceiling was dome-shaped, etched with dragons staring down at her with monstrous eyes. Each one was large, powerful, hypnotic, even. Such beauty, and such power, all captured within a single creature. To her left was a wall of windows, though the curtains hung over them, blocking any remaining sunlight from entering. In front of the large curtains were busts of the royal lineage, each face oh so solemn. Echoing in her ears was the sound of an orchestra, playing for a ball, as each of the women walked down the aisle with date in arm, looking like princes and princesses. She smiled softly to herself. Katara, just like any other girl, dreamed of being a princess.

A princess that could kick ass, but a princess all the same.

Katara parted the sheer red curtains into a luxurious bedroom. The bed alone was made for at least a dozen people; thick, cream-colored comforters, with golden swirling designs etched into the most amazingly intricate of patters, and each curl connected into the next. She paused, sitting down in front of a vanity mirror and dresser, leaning back in the red velvet chair, and stared into the lovely reflection. The mirror was outlined in small candle-flame shaped bulbs.

Her hair was still matted around her face from the rain. Her skin a darker shade than normal, from the inability to have a nice bath lately. Probably what she was most proud of, though, was her eyes. Deep and blue, like the ocean. . .ever changing, never once boring, and seemingly endless. She pulled the skin under her eye down a little, sticking out her tongue. "Bleeehhh!" She giggled. Hey, everyone had to be childish, now and then.

Was Zuko ever childish? Did he ever get the _chance_ to be childish?

Nobody really knew about him, except that if he was found in France, he need to be brought to the authorities, where he would be dealt with. Permanently. He was banished because he did not respect his father's wishes. . .other than that, not much was known about him.

She frowned, bringing her attention back up to the mirror, staring at the burnt flesh on her cheek. He was violent. Maybe he got what he had coming for him.

"Waterbender." A voice, deep and husky spoke from the entryway. A shirtless- ohmyspirits, shirtless- was leaning against the doorframe with his shoulder. In his hand was a small plastic cup of water. "You might need this."

She said with barely a glance over at him, "I'm not thirsty. And I told you to _stay _away from me." But she couldn't help but steal a peek. And what she saw was absolutely astounding. Taut, rippling muscles, shimmering with a manly mist of sweat. His skin was smooth and creamy, like ice cream slowly melting. Those sharp, golden slits were covered by silky black hair. It was so tempting to run her fingers through it, just to get it out of the way. He wore baggy onyx capris, moving whenever he moved. Maybe a martial arts master, or the Karate Kid, Katara couldn't decide what he looked like more. "Wax on, wax off. . ."

"What?"

"N-nothing."

"Okay. . .uh, this isn't for drinking." He set the cup down by her. "It's for bending."

"What's bending?" She finally turned to him, but he had already started leaving. He was like a phantom; here one minute, and gone the next.

"Just. . .play around with your water. I don't _know_. I'm a firebender. How am I supposed to teach you?" And he was gone.

"Great advice, Master Zuko!" Katara mumbled, huffing and leaning her elbow on top of the dresser, cupping her chin with her hand. Play with water? How old was she? _Five_? Doing all she could do, she stuck her fingers in the water- the coolness lapping at her fingers like puppies' tongues- and very gently patted her flesh wound, closing her eyes. The water ever so clung to her fingers, not needyand desperate, but as if they were simply two parts of the same whole. Brushing her fingers back and forth over her healing skin, she reveled in the peace and release water gave her. Strangely, though, her fingers started to tingle, a ticklish feeling. In the corner of her closed eyes, she could see a faint white light.

It felt so good, like butterflies kissing her cheek, but warm like angel's breath, gushing on the inside of her skin. Her eyelids slowly rose, facing her reflection once again. What she saw took her breath away.

The burn was completely _gone_.

But how? She didn't do anything. . .except touch her face with the water.

Waterbender. . .

Could that really mean she could bend water?

Katara hovered her hand over the water again, now focusing solely on the unmoving contents within the cup. Cool air caressed her fingers, playfully yet fluidly. She could feel as if the water coil around her fingers. Like a puppeteer, she twirled her fingers slowly in a clockwise motion. There was a tug from her knuckles and the sides of her fingers. Slowly, but sure, the water began to churn to her will.

She laughed and she shot up to her feet. It moved! The water actually _moved_, just like she told it to! Wow. How amazing. How incredible! This. . .this means, she's, like, a superhero, or something. "Sokka! Sokka, you'll never guess-" her shouts of excitement immediately died on her pink lips, her eyes sobering. Katara gently chewed her lower lip, staring into the water. She wished Sokka were here, instead of her, alone, save for a man hiding behind a mask. He would be so excited, he might even make a hamburger, just for her. If he ever shared his meat, that is. The thought brought a smile to her face. Her ever comical brother, actually cooking. Oh, no no no. She didn't want to burn what little they had after so many years of work.

She reached down and grasped the cup again, twirling the water in a circle. What else could she do with it? Could this be the door she wanted to an adventure? Her eyes sparkled with happiness. She could change the world. . .or, at least, the town she lived in.

And thus, the Master waterbender was awakened.

Katara took deep breaths. The past few days have been. . .overwhelming. She could use a nice bath, but she had no idea where to go. She looked around, trying to find a possible bathroom. There _had _to be one somewhere. You can't have an entire castle and not have a bath-

"Having fun, are we, waterbender?" A cheshire grin flashed in the reflection, standing right behind her.

She sighed. "Yeah, now what I know what bending is. And my name is Katara is my name, not waterbender!" Her eyes narrowed and her eyebrows furrowed, glaring at his reflection.

"Yes. I know."

". . .No, you don't."

"I do, waterbender."

"How could you? You've never even met me before."

At the grasp of her chin, she clenched the arms of the seat, but had no choice but to turn her head. Her eyes still slit, she stared into his, but nothing could prepare her for his next words.

"You don't know it, yet, but we're destined for each other."


	4. Rules

**A/N:** Hey guys! Thanks for your support and reviews so far. Please keep on reviewing!

Her eyes widened, shrinking back into her head. "What?"

His breath, warm like cinnamon, fanned over her face. "We're destined for each other, _my_ Katara."

She slapped his hand away immediately. "Um, no, we're not. I don't even know you. How can we be destined?"

"It has been said so."

"Prove it." She rose to her feet, her eyes challenging him. Her back straightened, she took a stance full of confidence. And he spared at no expense drinking her form in. Like a flash, he wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her tight to his firm body. His hand, strong but gentle, caressed her neck, trailing up and running a finger along her jaw. Forefinger and thumb grasping her chin, he whispered to her, barely a breath away from her mouth, "You asked for this, waterbender. Don't say I didn't warn you. . ." His eyelids closed, leaning in and pressed his lips to hers fully, but softly, as if she were something precious. _Very_ precious. A treasure that he never wanted to let go.

His lips were like fire. It lit her insides, she could see flashes behind her lids, and the world completely faded into the background. There was no world. There was just her, and this especially attractive man sharing a kiss. She wanted more, she _craved_ it. Her arms wrapped around his neck, plush lips moving gently against his. A hand slid into his hair, running through and lightly grasping as the kiss deepened. She felt her back press against a hard surface; and just in time, too. Zuko tilted his head, ever so slightly, his hand releasing her chin and stroking down to her shoulder. Feeling the intense connection, Katara went weak in her knees, and started to fall. But she supported herself against the wall, and his arm didn't fail her, because it was there to support her, and bring her right back up to her feet. A gentle groan escaped his lips, for reasons unknown. Had she hurt him? Did she do something wrong? But, why should she even care, anyway? _He's _the one who started kissing her out of nowhere!

And, just after those few, valuable minutes, he pulled away, grinning. "Is that proof enough for you?"

"The fact you kissed probably the only girl you've seen in years? YUP. Proof enough for me!" She threw up her hands and tried to walk past him, but his arms palms slammed onto the wall behind her, on either sides of her head. But she showed him no fear. "Let me go."

"_Never._" He breathed, which sounded a bit. . .uneven? What was up with that? "I've waited so long for you, Katara." He grabbed one of her strands of hair, rubbing it between his fingers. "You're my last hope. I am _not_ letting you go."

"Did I ask for you in my life? No. I should just be able to leave as easily as you came in!" She narrowed her eyes, her lips set into a deep scowl.

He chuckled softly, his eyes warm like honey. "If you want to think that way. . ." the prince's words fell short as a low grumble swam into his ears. A dazzling grin spread his mouth wide, his pearly white teeth shining. "My mother would be disappointed. I'll show you to the dining hall."

She wasn't going to deny that she was hungry. Silently she followed him, staring at his shoulderblades. Broad and strong, her fingertips itched to stroke them, but her hands remained limp at her sides. Her eyes followed the way his sides slimmed like a swimmer's body. Ironic, how he was a firebender. Following down, every inch she saw more and more muscles, smooth and toned. And then she saw his butt. . . Wow.

What a nice ass.

Just like that, she rammed into his back, stumbling back a little. Great. . .how humiliating. And she could almost hear the ego in his voice.

"Getting distracted?"

"Yeah. This place has nice architecture."

"Oh, I know _all_ about the 'architecture'." He grinned, turning to the side and holding out his hand for her. When she refused to take it, he pressed it to the small of her back, showing her what was behind the grand mahogany doors.

A hand flew to her mouth, a gasp wooshing out of her lungs. The whole dining hall was gold, but a bronzy gold that shimmered so. The ceiling was made up of several arches with dangling icicles, made of diamond with flecks of sapphire. Red rippon wrapped around the icicles, like thin veins, giving more of a broken look to them. There was an octagonal small opening at the center of the ceiling, lined with gold and covered with glass that appeared like a turtle shell from the outside. The floors was a creamy marble, the same color as Zuko's skin. The tables, which were round, were made of glass, with gold trimming. And then, in the center of the room, was a long, rectangular table, covered with a deep red cloth, and black dragon stitchings along the surface of the table. They writhed and moved, as if alive.

"Wow. . .this is. . .really. . .modern." Her eyes drifted upwards to a platform that jutted out over the dining area. It was a simple floor, with four windows side to side, arching at the top, behind four dark brown, oak wood thrones. They were polished and shined from even a hundred feet away. Streams like angel staircases peered through the windows and settled on the floor in front of them, cut with little lines. On the walls, level with the platform, were stained glass windows, partially covered with blood red curtains. Level with the rest of the dining room below were a few paintings of balls and great kings of the past, hung neatly and sparsely. In between paintings were candlelabras that stuck to the wall, offering eight candles at a time. And, at the front wall, which stared directly at Katara, were two separate paintings. One, Ozai, with a serious face, and Azula, prim and proper as always. To the right of said painting, was beautiful, elegant Queen Ursa, her long hair flowing over her shoulders, and a gentle smile on her lips. Her hand rested on the shoulder of her precious baby boy, unmasked, his hair in a ponytail, and. . .a innocent smile, reflecting his mothers. He looked so happy, and so whole.

"Yeah, we had some renovations a while back." He, too, seem distracted. His voice was softer, a little bit scratchier. "I'll go get your food. Choose anywhere you'd like to sit." He turned and left her alone, to stare in wonder at the grand dining hall. So magnificent, it was, that even months or years living in here would not be able to appreciate just how glorious it came out to be. Stepping lightly over the cool marble floor, she, of course, decided to sit at the rectangular table, along one long side. She smoothed her nightgown underneath her and sat down. The chairs were very comfortable, and Katara found herself easily relaxed into them. So much so that when Zuko came back half an hour later, she barely noticed he had been gone.

He carried two platters, one on each hand. Covered with a silver. . .well, cover, it felt like it was a fancy resturaunt, times a thousand. Katara began to stroke her hair, uncomfortable with such luxuries. She was used to the bare minimum, yet here, she was getting all she could ever want, and more. When he set it down for her, he also handed her a dark blue robe, matching her eyes. "Wear this." He ordered gently.

Katara threw him a look before accepting it, hating to be ordered around, but she was in no mood to argue. She tied it at the waist, and pulled herself up to the table, showing her best manners. When he lifted the lid, her eyes almost fell out. Rotisserie chicken, beautifully seasoned, with mashed potatoes and peas and carrots. He set aside her fork, knife, and napkins for her. He set down his plate as well, then went back to the kitchen, and returned with two wine glasses full of ice water. Finally, dinner was set, and his seat was next to hers. Within minutes, trying not to seem like a pig, Katara dug into her food, like she hadn't eaten in days. . .in reality, she probably hadn't. Immediately an explosion of flavor erupted in her mouth, and it was all she could do not to moan with joy. It was the best thing she had ever tasted, by far. The meat was tender and juicy, the skin perfectly seasoned with a crisp. "Wow, this is amazing. How did you learn to cook so well?" She asked, wiping her lips.

"I've had time to myself to practice," was his reply as he, too, started eating. There was a ten minute lapse of silence, but Katara decided that the best time to ask questions was now.

"So, what's bending?"

Surprisingly, Zuko didn't even blink at the question. "It's a control over an element; water, earth, fire, or air. Not everyone has bending abilities, but those that do can only control one." He took a drink of water, and swallowed slowly. "Legend has it that there is one person, called the Avatar, who can control all four. He is said to maintain balance and peace within the world. . .but no one has seen him in a hundred years." Zuko's eyes had a faraway look to them as he now played with his food.

"Then why haven't I heard of bending before? Are there others?"

This time, Zuko hesitated, and thought before he spoke. Then he turned to her, his eyes flickering with anger. "You haven't heard it before because my forbids bending, not even to speak of it. He doesn't want anyone to think it exists, so that nobody tries to overthrow him. He keeps everyone in check with his extensive army of highly-trained firebending soldiers." With a sigh, his voice, a moment ago hard and on edge, relaxed. "There are plenty of other benders out there. They're all just hiding, or they don't enter the French empire."

Katara slowly nodded. So, that explains it. But, there was one other thing that was bugging her. Turning to this man, she reached her hand and cupped his bare cheek, her thumb stroking along his cheekbone. Surprise flashed in his eyes, which had gone wide, but at her touch he visibly relaxed, his lips parted in a gentle sigh. "Katara. . ." he murmured her name, his eyes closing. He lost himself within her gentle, cool touch. The water to tame the flame. She neared him, getting closer, and closer, as her touch grew slower and lighter, almost stopping. Then, with just a few fingers, she gingerly removed the mask from his face.

And like a cobra striking its prey, her chair started to fall backwards and slammed onto the cold, welcoming floor.

The breath flew out of her lungs as she lay on the ground, her head pounding when it had slammed against the wooden head of the chair. She groaned in pain, turning to face a raging Zuko, who used his hand to cover half of his face, hunched over as if _he _were the one in pain! "What the _hell_ was that?"

"That's what I should be asking!" He snapped, spinning sharply to look at her. His lip was curled over in a snarl, his eyes slit with fury. The pure, white-hot anger sent Katara's stomach twisting in knots, but she didn't back down. She shot up to her feet, her hands on her hips. "You did NOT have to push me over like that. I could've gotten seriously hurt. All I did-"

"You have no _idea _what you did!" Zuko roared, sweeping his hand out. A line of fire raced across the air, but no where near Katara. When the fire died, her eyes were wide with shock, her lips parted in astonishment. Then, with a completely blank face, she walked past him, not even brushing shoulders.

"Hey! Where do you think you're going, Katara?"

"Home."

**A/N**: I'm sorry if the descriptions got boring, I understand that at times they can be tedious. Heads up, I probably can't upload Saturday, because I have a concert AND prom. I'll remind you with the next two chapters I post. Thanks again, and don't forget to review! :)


	5. Forgiveness

_The breath flew out of her lungs as she lay on the ground, her head pounding when it had slammed against the wooden head of the chair. She groaned in pain, turning to face a raging Zuko, who used his hand to cover half of his face, hunched over as if he were the one in pain! "What the hell was that?" _

"_That's what I should be asking!" He snapped, spinning sharply to look at her. His lip was curled over in a snarl, his eyes slit with fury. The pure, white-hot anger sent Katara's stomach twisting in knots, but she didn't back down. She shot up to her feet, her hands on her hips. "You did NOT have to push me over like that. I could've gotten seriously hurt. All I did-"_

"_You have no idea what you did!" Zuko roared, sweeping his hand out. A line of fire raced across the air, but no where near Katara. When the fire died, her eyes were wide with shock, her lips parted in astonishment. Then, with a completely blank face, she walked past him, not even brushing shoulders._

"_Hey! Where do you think you're going, Katara?"_

_Without even pausing, keeping her head and straight forward. . ._

"_Home." _

"WHAT?"

"You heard me. I'm going home."

"No! You can't do that!"

"_Watch_ me." She dared, slamming the doors behind her. In the dining hall she could hear a beastly roar, as well as glass shattering, metal banging the floor, and many, many chairs being flipped over, or tossed against the wall.

This guy needed some anger management.

With a sigh and a shake of her head, she went back to her room, and grabbed her water. Sadly, that was the only thing she possessed. Now, she needed to find her old clothes. And the only person who would know where they are. . .

Of. Freaking. Course.

She didn't want to go back to him just yet. So she decided she would get "lost" and have _him_ come looking for _her_, that is, if he cared enough. Eventually, Katara found herself outside, in a beautiful garden, built with high stone walls and vines crawling in between the cracks, dotted with small flowers here and there. Beyond the maze was a garden of flowers, that was about thirty feet by thirty. . .enough to cover a whole room. Barefoot, she felt her way around in the dark, feeling the soft cut grass underneath her skin, until the ground changed to soft, delicate petals, tickling the underside of her foot. She couldn't suppress a soft smile, closing her eyes, and letting herself fall backwards into the welcoming flowers. As soon as she nestled herself among such gentle, innocent beings, she took a deep inhale, allowing the sweet aromas to mix and linger in her nose. The waterbender sighed softly, growing at peace with the chirps of the crickets and the hoots of the owl. The moon, peeking out of it's cloak of darkness, seemed to be almost full, like a cup of water almost to the brim. The stars winked at her from up above, as if to assure her that everything would be alright. Opening her eyes, she stared at the night sky. No matter what happened, it always stayed the same. You could lose your parents, run away from the only home you had, start a new life. . .and the sky will have been exactly the same since the day you were born. No matter how many years had passed, people of many generations would look at the same night sky.

Was it better that way? To stick to routine, and leave nothing changed? It would certainly be more peaceful. . .but, one should live life to the fullest. That means, no matter what, there is going to be change. You just gotta suck it up and deal with it. (**A/N:** Life lesson, kids.) She took a deep breath, closing her eyes again, focusing on the flowers. When in deep meditation, she realized she could feel the water within the flowers, sustaining them and keeping them alive. Reaching out, her fingertip absentmindedly stroked the soft petal, over, and over, and over. The tingle she got reminded her of the small tingles still on her lips from Zuko's kiss. . .she shook her head. Whatever they "had", wasn't going to happen. She didn't want a relationship.

Besides, if she wanted a relationship, she'd want it with someone she could trust.

_It gets _better, her heart told her. _Patience is rewarded. _

"But I don't want to be patient with him!" She scolded herself. "He's. . .he's dangerous. He can't be trusted." Her eyes saddened. Is that how she really felt? Yes, yes actually, it was. She could almost hear Sokka in the back of her head. _"Stay away from him, Katara. He's bad news."_

Yet, at the same time, she knew deep down her heart was right, too. Something kept her anchored down here. This is where she's meant to be, right here, and right now.

There's no where else she should be.

xXx

It was late morning that Katara had awoken, lying on her side and her hand curled by her face. Her pink lips parted as she breathed softly. Her nose scrunched and she yawned oh so quietly, reaching her hand from under the blanket and pulling it closer to her, shifting to get more comfy.

Blanket?

Her eyes opened, very gently, so that she would not be blinded by light. On top of her she found a fuzzy white blanket, covering her from head to toe. She pulled the blanket up to her face, burying her nose in it.

Woodsy smell. Burning fire. . .Zuko's scent.

Slowly she sat up, already knowing her nightgown probably had grass stains on it. A butterfly flitted right in front of her face, hovering a moment, before it went to go find a flower nearby. The birds in a nearby blossomed tree sang sweetly, filling the air with priceless music. The sun hid behind a few clouds, but the air was nice and cool. She blinked a few times, and rubbed her eyes, and when she opened her eyes, she saw a mess of black hair off in the distance, twirling and twisting and jumping and thrashing, but no fire. Grabbing the blanket, she rose to her feet with wobbly knees, even swaying a little like a drunkard when she took the first few steps. But she came near enough, and she clutched to the blanket to her chest, the young woman watched in awe of the spectacle before her.

He punched the air with several jabs, then kicked once up, once down, and forming a hundred degree angle, he circled his leg before he slammed in back down onto the ground, tucking and rolling, and as he unfurled, he stuck his arm out, as if leading his army into battle. His muscles rippled with the strength of the movements, but on and on his furious motions came without pause or break. Now Katara understood why there was so many dragons everywhere- the way he moved, was lithe and powerful, yet majestic and beautiful, like a dragon. Patiently she watched the show, fully entranced. Even after he stopped, and even after he stared back at her, she didn't seem to notice, until she blinked out of her stupor. And for a while, the two simply stared at each other, offering no conversation. That is, until Katara finally spoke up.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Uh. . .thanks. You know, for the. . .blanket. It was really nice of you."

He nodded. "You're welcome." He whispered, his voice taking on a gentle quality, but still had that deep, sexy hint of scratchiness to it.

She sighed, rubbing her arm, and looking down to the side. "Listen, Zuko. . .about last night. . .I-" she was cut off when she felt his warm, hard body press against hers tight, and his arms snake around her waist and pulling her flush against him. His lips rested at her forehead, kissing once, and then another. As if promising he would change, for her. Only for her. He rubbed his nose into her hair, sighing gently. He had missed her, though he himself would never had admitted it. But he didn't need to. Katara understood perfectly, as her arms wrapped around him, her fingertips resting on his shoulder blades.

Because she had missed him too.

**A/N:** Short chapter, but my creative juices are not as flowy today. I would love for some beta-ing, as this is all raw material that I have to edit myself with some help from a friend. But, as the saying goes, two (or more) brain are better than one. ;) Please review!


	6. Mother

**A/N:** Just a quick shout-out to those that have been reviewing, THANK YOU! Your kind, inspiring reviews are really what keep me going. So, keep those reviews up please ;) And to those that have favorited or alerted this story- thank you, too. Your support is awesome! Now, sit back, relax, and enjoy the Zutara sweetness.

She didn't understand it. There was this boy, who had saved her from the rain, took her in, and did nothing to help her understand what was going on. All he did was confuse her. Between his mood swings, and his declaration of commitment (seriously, _what_ guy does that?), this boy made no sense whatsoever. Oh, and let's not forget about the forbidden ability to bend. But, yet, here she was, in his arms, enjoying the warmth that passed into her body from his smooth skin. Her cheek pressed to his chest, she could hear the rhythmic heartbeat, calming her to unknown ends. She breathed softly, dragging her nails lightly down his back, feeling the friction it created. Zuko ran his fingers through her thick hair, over and over, as if brushing, and found it in knots. He stopped and murmured to her, "Perhaps I should have paid more attention to your needs."

"Hm?"

"You need a bath, your hair brushed. . .and whatever else it is you girls need." He snickered at the end.

She couldn't help but roll her eyes, pulling away. "You don't need to take care of me. I'm not a baby." She shook her head, chuckling as she kept at arm's length from him. "You're just like Sokka. What _is_ it with you men and trying to take care of us?"

He narrowed his eyes and brought his arms back to himself. "What is it with women and thinking that we do it because we think you _need_ it? No, Katara. I do it because I want to see you happy. It's not that complicated." He rolled his eyes and turned around.

"Did I _ask_ for your help? Some women just don't want it, Zuko." She spat.

Running his hand through his hair, he turned back around, his lips pursed in a thin line. "Do you want me to show you to the bathroom, or not?"

She rolled her eyes now, crossing her arms. "Sure."

He led her out of the garden, nodding. Down the hallway, to the very end, he opened a door and introduced her to one of the more simple bathrooms. He reached for the golden, long door handle, but stopped, and lowered his hand. Tipping his head down, he sighed, his eyes narrowing slightly. Zuko turned to her, and held a hand to the door. "Would you like to open it?"

"Yes." She nodded in appreciation, and took the door handle, pushed down, and opened the door. And her hand lingered on the handle for several moments.

The bathroom was completely modernized. To Katara, it was like a doorway into a whole new world. Tiles on the floor were either bronze with gold veins, or a creamy tan. To the side, there was a toilet, and another one next to it, however, it did not have a lid. Next to the toilets to the left were glass sliding doors, and above hung a large, circular disk, with hundreds of tiny holes in it where the water would drip from. Towels and soaps were already set up within the shower. And to their right, a hot tub, made of black and white marble, as the rest of the walls in the bathroom were. On the ceiling above the tub were small, blue twinkling lights, not turned on. A white fuzzy mat lay before the hot tub, as if asking her to take a chance, try it out. Her body immediately ached for it. Just one day, she deserved some relaxation. She nearly moaned in anticipation.

He shrugged. "I'll meet you outside when you're done." And with that, he left her alone.

As soon as the door shut, she ripped her nightgown off, undid all of her hair, and raced into the shower, sliding the doors closed. She looked at the silver lever, wondering which way to turn it. But she turned it on, and ice cold water plummeted onto her skin. With a shriek she jumped out of the way, covering her body with warmth, but the sound of glass hitting the floor startled her more than the cold water. She turned to look, and all around her bare feet were frozen drops of water, rolling towards the drain like eggs rolling down a hill. How interesting. . .

Katara looked above her, studying how the droplets dripped from the main source, one individual at a time. And then she thought how they were all connected by a water line. It was like teamwork- coming from one center, branching out, and all working together for the same cause. So, to be in control of the water, she had to be connected to it. She closed her eyes and stepped back in to the water, feeling it run over her skin, her hair soaking it up, or how her lips caught it, and her tongue flicked out to taste the coolness. She opened her eyes slowly and swept her hand in a graceful arc, and all the droplets froze again, and fell to the floor, some shattering. The waterbender grinned with pride, clenching her fist and bringing it down to her side. "YES!" she cried. Little by little, she was learning. And she wanted to keep learning.

o0o0o0o0o

Katara walked out back to the garden, where she knew Zuko would be. Her wet hair clung to her in dark curls, wearing a strapless scarlet dress that comfortably fitted her to her knees. On her head she wore a tan beret, and on her forearm was a gold band clasped tight.

It seemed Zuko would practice all day and all night bending. Why was it that important to him, she wondered? Shouldn't he have mastered it by now, if he's known about bending so long? Katara knew she would've. She wouldn't quit until she had the art of it absolutely perfected.

But this time was different. She didn't find Zuko in his practicing area, and of course, puzzled, she searched for him. "Zuko?" She called out, peering around the stone wall, around the castle walls, too. She couldn't find him, and she was about to call his name out again when she saw him kneeling before a pond, looking lost in time. Quietly, she tiptoed over to him, her head to the side. What was he doing?

Little quacks distracted her from Zuko briefly. Swimming towards the banished prince were three ducklings, and the mama duck. He reached into his lap, tore off a piece of bread, and tossed it into the water, without a change of expression at all. The ducklings wasted no time in swimming over to the chunks of bread, dipping their heads in the water and catching the food, chomping it happily. Katara could see the pleased twinkle in their eyes, and she smiled when the mother duck made sure they were all fed before she fed herself. It was such a sweet scene, she didn't think Zuko would be into these "sweet" activities. Walking over, she knelt next to Zuko, and what she saw made her heart ache, in two opposite ways. In his amber eyes warred two emotions, a pain, an indescribable longing and sadness, and the other a gentle love, a tender love that a father would have over his children, or a kind king would have over his people. "What are you doing, Zuko?" She quietly asked, unsure if she would even earn a response.

"My mother used to take me here when I was little," he murmured, throwing another piece into the water. "I would practice all day, and next to my sister, it never seemed good enough. I could never get as far as she could. But my mother. . .she would take me here, after practice. Forget about my sister, forget about practice." He chucked the last of the bread. "It was the only time I felt worth anything. It was always just my mom and I, who would be proud of me just because I tried. Unlike my father and my sister. . .she was always there, ready to pick me up when I fell." His eyes grew dark with hate. "I lost my mother when I was seven. She came to me in the middle of the night, and said to me, 'Zuko, my love, listen to me. Everything I have done, I have done to _protect_ you. But remember- _never_ forget who you are.'" He took a deep breath, and he had started shaking before he continued. "I thought nothing of it, as a kid. . .I fell right back asleep. But, by the next morning. . ." A long pause, before a broken whisper forced itself out of his throat. "She was gone."

Her eyes saddened, and she looked into the water. "She must've meant a lot to you, your mother. She sounds like a very kind woman. You looked up to her a lot, and relied on her, didn't you?"

"Of course I did. She was my mother."

Pulling her knees up to her chest, she spoke in a softer voice. "I understand. We lost our parents when I was four." Flashes exploded in front of her eyes, and she winced in pain, but made no other motion. "We just woke up one morning. . .and they were laying in their bed, dead. They looked like they were asleep. . ."

He turned to her, sorrow in his dark eyes. "I'm sorry."

She nodded slowly, her fingertips slowly coming up and resting upon her necklace. "This is all I have left of my mother. I never take it off."

"It must mean a lot to you," he noted, looking back on the ducks.

"Just as these ducks mean to you," she whispered. Katara stared at his face. She saw a hurt boy, who just wanted to be loved again, that strong, devoted love that his mom had once given him. He wanted somebody who would be there, no matter what. And she was supposed to, by this prophecy, be that person. She threw a weak smile at him and patted her lap. Zuko nodded in understanding, turned to the side, and laid on his back, his head gently resting on top of her thighs.

And so the bud of romance began to bloom.

0o0o0o0o0o0o

"Come on, Zuko. It's not that bad."

"No. I'm not doing it."

"Pretty please?" She clasped her hands together, batting her long eyelashes.

"I. Said. No." He barked.

She took his hands in hers, pulling him along. "I promise, it won't kill you."

He grumbled, "You'll be the death of me."

**A/N:** I apologize for the recently serious chapters. I've been really busy lately, so my state of mind isn't exactly "fun". However, I promise the next few chapters will be a little less serious (now that Katara's decided to trust him). So, wait and see! I promise you won't be disappointed. :D AND PLEASE REVIEW!


	7. Run!

"Come on, Zuko. It's not that bad."

"No. I'm not doing it."

"Pretty please?" She clasped her hands together, batting her long eyelashes.

"I. Said. No." He barked.

She took his hands in hers, pulling him along. "I promise, it won't kill you."

He grumbled, "You'll be the death of me."

"Just one dance." She held up her index finger to his face. "That's all I want. Just ONE dance."

". . ."

"Two minutes. Maybe five. If you don't like it, you'll never have to dance again."

There was a long silence. What was this girl doing to him? Finally, he caved in with an exasperated sigh. "Fine. _One_ dance. That's _it_, Katara."

She gave him a triumphant grin and resisted a pleased giggle. "I'll meet you in the ballroom in twenty minutes." She scurried off to groom herself for the dance.

* * *

Katara sat on the stool in front of her vanity mirror, brushing out her long curls over her shoulder. It had been two weeks that she had been here, and she had grown a liking to this lifestyle. It was peaceful, relaxing, and she had all the pleasantries she could imagine. The food, smuggled in from friends of Zuko's (who knew!), was absolutely divine, as genuine French cuisine was. Then again, a nice hamburger here and there wasn't bad, either. The beds were all super soft and seemed to suck you in, relaxing your muscles and bones and gave you the most divine comfort. They were also fun for jumping on, and great for having a pillow fight (or two, though Zuko did not seem to entertained by this). The garden was beautiful, and great for practicing her bending, she realized, when there was a pond and a multitude of small pools and glistening fountains. The water washed over her like a second skin, and she was just as able to control it as her own body. And the castle itself was entirely fascinating- from the architecture to the paintings, and even the certain atmosphere that one could feel walking through. It truly became like a second home to her, as if a glove she had been meant to wear. She rose to her feet, her hair cascading around her shoulders and back in luscious curls. Her mother's necklace adorned her neck, as always, and she wore a simple white Grecian dress, with silver lining around the bust and down the slit along her long leg. Lips a supple pink with strawberry gloss, she smiled and made sure she looked absolutely perfect. How often did she get to be. . .feminine, especially in these times? Truthfully, it was better, the lifestyle of a man that she lived, but being a girl every now and then was fun, too. Spritzing on some perfume, she made her way to the ballroom, her delicate feet bare. The marble felt cool against her skin, and she reveled in it.

She opened the doors to the ballroom, and smiled. A nearly perfect replica from the ballroom in Beauty and the Beast, she felt like a princess. The angels seemed to sing and fly around her, while the mixture of gold and warm bronze invited her in. She walked to the center of the ballroom, seeing Zuko awaiting her. His eyes widened and she could've sworn she saw his jaw drop briefly, but she wasn't too sure. He wore a simple suit, black with a white undershirt. As soon as she came up to him, the music started, and placing her hand in his, and one on his arm, his other on her hip, the two began to dance the night away. Twirling and dipping and laughing they danced together. At first, Zuko wasn't so into it, but over time, he gradually got to liking it. . .though, he'd never admit it. He watched the way her hair would twirl or the golden light would twinkle in her eyes. . .those beautiful, ocean depths that would never cease to amaze him. For a couple hours they exchanged pleasant conversation as they had for the past two weeks, and it had become so normal for them. Sometimes they would talk about their mothers, or the time Sokka swore he caught a rivermonster fishing one day. They revealed secrets unspoken to any other, snuggling under the stars or playing various bending games.

Zuko, however, could share no happy memories of he and his sister together. She always picked on him, and bullied him, and her friends did little to stop her. Katara knew that there was more that he wasn't letting on to, but she didn't pressure him.

Both of them had gained a lot of understanding of one another. Katara was passionate, fierce, and very motherly when it came down to it. Zuko was strong, determined, and although bad-tempered, he was very sweet, when he wanted to be.

It was late into the eve, and the couple had calmed to a slow dance. They slowly moved side to side, her hand in his, raised to about shoulder level. Her cheek pressed against his chest, she closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat. The music faded to the background, and it became just them once more.

"I'm glad I met you," she mumbled into his chest, a bit sleepily. A yawn punctuated the end of her state, confirming her sleepiness.

"What?"

She turned her face up to his and smiled gently, her deep blue eyes sparkling with an innocent joy. "I said, I'm glad I met you, Zuko."

He smiled back, a quirk of his lips. "Me too, Katara."

Her neck began to crane, her eyes becoming half lidded. Rising to her tippy toes, her face inched his. . .closer, and closer. . .then a sporadic explosion from the front interrupted them, followed by a warm, serpent-like voice that made Katara's hairs stand on end.

"I'm home, _Zuzu_!"

**A/N:** Sorry for another short chapter. . .I've been super busy lately, and even have a slight case of writer's block. Plus I have a new story in mind that I will post the first chapter to shortly. Rest assured, things are about to get _very _interesting indeed. ;)


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